


Real Men Wear Eyeliner

by emilyray (emilyenrose)



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-08
Updated: 2008-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyenrose/pseuds/emilyray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is a fashion dictator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Men Wear Eyeliner

When they finally made Jon's place in the band official Jon couldn't stop smiling. He'd guessed what the band meeting was about before Spencer came out with it - Brendon had been looking at him sideways and breaking into great big delighted grins all week, and that morning when Jon had given him the last of the coffee he'd flung his arms around his neck and announced, "Thank god we've got you forever now, Jon Walker!" which was a definite hint. But when Spencer ducked his head and smiled and said so, yeah, they'd get someone to update the website and announce it officially at the next show or something, Jon sort of wanted to hug him or punch the air or maybe do a little victory dance, because _hell fucking yes_. It took him a moment to realise he was being asked a question, and Spencer had to repeat himself - "that is, I guess, if that's what you want. If you're okay with it?

"Are you kidding me, Spencer?" said Jon. "Are you _joking_? Did you seriously think I'd say anything other than yes?"

"Nah, not really," said Spencer, "but it was worth checking." He beamed. "Okay, so I guess we're done. Are we done, guys?"

"We're done," said Brendon instantly. "Who wants to play Guitar Hero?"

"You'd better prepare for a beating, Urie," retorted Spencer, "cause if you play with me then you're going _down_ -"

Ryan coughed.

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Oh, right," he said. "Ryan says there's a condition. But you have to talk to him about it or something, I'm not doing it. C'mon, Brendon."

Then he and Brendon were gone, and it was just Ryan and Jon sitting on the couch. Jon shifted nervously. He still knew Ryan the least well of all the guys - Ryan wasn't an easy guy to know. They'd chatted, had cool conversations about music and stuff, but Jon couldn't quite work out what Ryan was actually _thinking_ at any given time. He'd tried asking the others, but Spencer had just shrugged one-shouldered and said "He likes you," and Brendon had explained, "He's just a seriously freaky little dude, Jon, _seriously_," and made an expansive arm gesture to indicate the depths of Ryan's freakiness, "but he's awesome, don't worry about it."

"So... condition?" he said.

Ryan put his hand on Jon's knee. Jon blinked at it. Ryan had really long fingers. Also, he'd thought Brendon was Mr. Inappropriate Touching around here. He really hoped Ryan wasn't about to say (Bill's theory) that Brent had left because of the mandatory weekly band orgies and Jon had better be okay with them, or else (Tom's theory) that he was actually a space alien and needed Jon to let him eat his brains or something. He wasn't sure he'd be completely okay with either of those. "Um."

Ryan was giving him a really intense look now. "Jon," he said. "Jon, there are going to have to be changes."

"Um," said Jon again, considerably more alarmed.

"Your _clothes_," Ryan emphasised, and paused. "Do you know how to put on eyeliner?"

Okay, so it wasn't orgies and it wasn't aliens, but Jon's alarm still wasn't going away. "No?" he said.

Ryan gripped Jon's knee tighter. "Real men wear eyeliner," he said. The look in his eyes was intense and a little bit crazy - or actually, that might have been the eyeliner, and Jon should have seen this coming, now he thought about it.

Still, he was pretty sure he was on firm ground when he answered certainly, "No they don't." He was about ninety percent certain – maybe ninety-five – that real men did nothing of the sort.

"Yes they do," said Ryan.

"No they _don't_."

Ryan gave his knee a little shake for emphasis, let go, and stood up. "They do in _my_ band," he said.

Oh.  
_

Jon went with it at first. Sure, it was crazy, and he felt like an idiot, and he kept getting liquid eyeliner in his eye which hurt like a motherfucker ("Just _stop blinking_," Ryan said impatiently, which of course always made Jon blink) but he'd wanted to be a part of this band, right? And he was getting to realise that this really was _Ryan's_ band: the lyrics were Ryan's lyrics and the look was Ryan's look and if Ryan said they all had to wear ruffles, well, Spencer and Brendon went along with it without even thinking, and Jon was just the new guy.

But Ryan just kept escalating. First it was mimes, and then it was clowns, and then it was Victorian clowns, and then it was vaudeville mimes, and then it was vaudeville Victorian clown-mimes or something, and there were photos of Jon wearing eyeliner in _Blender_, and Tom sent him texts consisting entirely of exclamation marks with HAHAHA tacked on the end, and it had to stop somewhere before Jon actually literally lost his mind and started wearing newsboy caps everywhere. So one night he went to the dressing room, pulled off his t-shirt, and put on another t-shirt. (He'd considered the Opening Gambit tee carefully. It was blue.)

After a while Ryan noticed and glared at him. "Jon," he said. "You've got_ twelve minutes_ to get into costume and I still have to do your makeup."

"I'm boycotting," said Jon.

"What?" said Ryan.

"Boycotting," Jon repeated. "No ruffles for me tonight."

Brendon and Spencer both started pretending to be very busy doing other things - other, important, busy things - and not eavesdropping, but it didn't work because they were the most obvious eavesdroppers ever. Ryan stared at Jon and bit his lip hard. "Why?" he said. "Is it - not good enough? We could, I don't know, go back to the mimes" (they were in the middle of a carnie period at the moment) "or, if it's just the clothes, I can have someone get a tailor in and we can do a fitting -"

"No," said Jon hastily, because shit, Ryan actually looked sad, which made Brendon look worried, and he was conscious of waves of silent Spencer-anger coming his way, "it's not - there's nothing wrong with the clothes, Ryan, it's just - I -" Ryan's sad face was getting more pronounced. It was probably the most expression Jon had ever seen him show at once. "I just want my girlfriend to stop calling me up and telling me it's okay if I'm into dudes as well because she thinks that's hot, okay?" he said desperately.

There was a moment's silence.

"You too, huh?" said Spencer at last.  
_

In the end they reached a compromise. Jon was allowed to boycott the ruffles for the stage shows as often as he liked provided he still let Ryan dress him up for photoshoots and awards and things, and there was to be no more eyeliner anywhere _near_ his face. (All three of the other guys complained when he made that rule, and – to his surprise – so did Cassie the next time he called her. Jon stood firm. The stuff was a bitch to put on and then it _smudged_, he had no idea how anyone ever put up with it.)

Jon wasn't done, though. They were heading off to the cabin soon, and he'd made a bigger plan than just a simple boycott. Somehow, _somehow_, he was going to introduce the rest of Panic! At The Disco to the joys of looking like normal people – normal _male_ people. Even Ryan, if he could manage it, though that one was the toughest so Jon was leaving it for last. He decided to start with Brendon, on the grounds that Spencer was still Ryan's best friend and would be harder to talk over. He'd noticed Brendon liked to wear jeans and hoodies sometimes – and sure, the jeans were girl jeans, and the hoodie was lavender, but at least the general _idea_ was right.

"Is this like Pinocchio, Jon?" said Brendon. "Are you going to transform me into a real boy? Because I think that makes you the fairy."

"Sure," said Jon. "I'll be the fairy. I'm a fairy of manliness. Let's talk about flip-flops."

"Manliness, huh?" said Brendon. "Should I grow a beard? Or, like, scruff? I've never tried a beard. Maybe I could rock the manly stubble, like whatsis in Lord of the Rings."

Jon was pretty sure Brendon knew exactly what whatsis in Lord of the Rings was called, but Brendon was experimenting with not being so much of a geek, so he wasn't about to call him on it. "Sure," he said. "Beards are cool. You should try it."  
_

On the third day in the cabin, Ryan looked up from his breakfast of pancakes dipped in a bowlful of milk and cereal (apparently the soggy cereal taste brought out the flavour, or something) and froze, his eyes widening with undisguised horror. "Brendon," he said. "_Shave_."

Jon hated to admit it, but Ryan was probably right about that one.  
_

"So aren't you going to try transforming me into a real boy?" asked Spencer one evening. "I think I'm hurt, Jon Walker."

Ryan and Brendon were still in the other room 'brainstorming' – brainstorming sounded a lot like Brendon playing everything he'd ever heard on the piano, from Beethoven sonatas to advertising jingles, while Ryan feverishly scribbled down random words on bits of paper and, when he ran out of room, the back of his hand. Jon had looked over his shoulder earlier, seen 'pyramids', 'fandango', and 'cannibal daydreams', and decided not to ask.

Spencer grinned at Jon in a way that was definitely a little bit teasing.

"I wouldn't know where to start," Jon said.

"Really?" said Spencer. "Cause I'd start by telling me to wear less pink."

Jon blinked. "Yeah," he agreed cautiously. "Pink's not that manly."

"What's a manly colour to wear, then?" Spencer's grin got broader. Jon suspected he was up to something.

"Uh – black," he replied. "Black's pretty masculine, you're safe with black." His mind presented him with a horrible image. "Not My Chemical Romance sort of black," he added hastily. "Just, you know, normal black. Shirts and things."

Spencer laughed. "Don't worry, Ryan already went through that phase, I'm over it. Black shirts, got it." He paused. "How about a beard?"

Jon stared at Spencer and tried to imagine a beard on him. It didn't work very well. The first time Jon had ever seen Panic he'd come away with the impression that the drummer was a hot lesbian chick, and even though Spencer had grown a bit taller and a bit broader since then, the image still lingered. Plus, suggesting a beard had been pretty much an unqualified disaster when it was Brendon. "You could try?" he said doubtfully.

Spencer smirked."Thanks for your support, Jon," he said. "You've really made me reconsider my worldview. And my wardrobe."  
_

Two mornings later Ryan looked up from his breakfast and did a doubletake. "Spencer," he said. "Shave."

"No," said Spencer serenely.

Ryan's mouth twitched.

Spencer's eyebrows lifted.

Ryan ran a hand through his hair.

Spencer tilted his head.

Ryan slumped.

Spencer folded his arms.

"_Fine_," said Ryan. Jon was pretty impressed. He'd never seen Ryan give in that fast before.

From the bathroom, Brendon began to sing, his voice at full stage volume and echoey from the shower. "What the fuck?" said Ryan.

"_He won't cut his beard and he won't change his hair! His haaaaair! His HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIR!"_ bellowed Brendon.

"Someone make him shut up," said Spencer.

"Huh," said Ryan. "Hair is a good word. _Haaaair_. Maybe we should use that."

Jon started to laugh. He seriously had no idea how he'd lived before these guys, sometimes.  
_

Now that he'd got Spencer firmly on his side (even if he was going to have to talk to him later about colours other than black) and Brendon sometimes wearing band t-shirts with his girl jeans (band t-shirts were okay, Jon had decided. Girl jeans weren't, but he was prepared to make an exception for Brendon, if only because it was pretty difficult to find men's in his size) it was time to take on the real challenge.

He went to look for Ryan.

Ryan was lounging on his bed, texting Keltie on his Sidekick. He was wearing skinny jeans and dress shoes and a pinstriped shirt and an embroidered vest and a cameo brooch and a scarf looped round his neck and another scarf as a belt and the newsboy hat and blue eyeliner.

"Um," said Jon. This was going to be even tougher than he'd thought. But he needed to at least get rid of the damn _makeup_.

"Hi, Jon," said Ryan, looking up. His Sidekick beeped. "Keltie says hi."

"Hi Keltie?" said Jon uncertainly.

Ryan typed something. Moments later the Sidekick beeped again. Ryan looked down, read what it said, and turned a dull shade of red under his hat. "Yeah, um, she says hi. Did you want something?"

"I – no. Just saying hi," said Jon.

"Okay," said Ryan. "Hey, do you want to go into town with me? I forgot it was my turn to get groceries."

As far as Jon knew Ryan hadn't been aware he _had_ a turn to get groceries. On his days they usually just sent Brendon instead, on the grounds that he could get to the store and back in under an hour, while Ryan took three. The extra sugary stuff he brought back was worth Spencer and Jon not having to do the chore themselves, or worse, trying to get Ryan to do it. "But you remembered?" he asked.

"Keltie reminded me," said Ryan.

"Huh. Okay," said Jon. "Let's go."

But as they went out to get Ryan's car his mind was working in overdrive. Keltie pretty obviously had Ryan wrapped around her little finger. Keltie could _tell Ryan what to do_.

Keltie was about to become his new secret weapon.  
_

"Hi," said Jon into his phone one night, when he'd finally managed to get a good look at Ryan's Sidekick and copy out the number.

"Hi," said Keltie. "Um, who is this?"

"Jon. Um, Jon Walker? From Panic? Ryan's band?"

"Jon – Jon! Hi! Did Ryan give you the number?"

"Sort of," said Jon, and moved on quickly. "Listen, I need your help."

"Okay, sure. Hey, if this is about you guys having gay sex –"

"It's not!" said Jon, pulling the phone away from his ear and staring at it. Why were all their girlfriends _freaks_?

"Oh, okay," said the phone tinnily. It sounded faintly disappointed.

"No, listen," said Jon, putting the phone back to his ear. "It's about - I've got this plan, all right..."

When he finally hung up Keltie's giggles were still ringing in his ears, and he'd gotten a promise out of her. _Result_.  
_

"Ryan, where's your eyeliner?" said Brendon a couple of weeks later. "You haven't worn any in ages."

"I, um, gave all my makeup to Keltie as a symbol of our love," said Ryan.

Jon put on his best innocent face and pretended to be very interested in making the coffee.

"She says I have to teach her how to use it, though," said Ryan. "She doesn't normally wear that much."  
_

Jon was prepared to admit later that he'd gotten careless. It had all been going so _well_. The world at large seemed to agree that Spencer Smith 2.0 was hot as fuck even if he didn't look like a bitchy sexy lesbian any more, and although Jon's talk with him about other colours didn't seem to have hit home he'd at least bought other _shirts_, so now he had about a dozen black button-downs hanging in his closet. They were all from the men's department; Jon had checked. Meanwhile Brendon had really started to embrace the band t-shirts thing, and he'd bought himself some flip-flops, so Jon had high hopes. And as for Ryan –

Well, he was still _Ryan_, but Jon had congratulated himself the day after his twenty-first when he'd seen the pictures and said, "Ryan, man, I hate to say it, but you look like a girl in all of these."

Ryan had looked like a girl in dozens, no, _hundreds_ of pictures over the last few years, but he still sounded worried when he said, "Really? You think so?"

"It's the headband," said Jon. "Real men don't wear decorative hair accessories."

"I like the headband," said Ryan. "It keeps the hair out of my face."

Jon gave him a look.

"Oh, huh," said Ryan.

The next time Jon saw him he'd cut his hair.

Okay, so now he looked like a twelve-year-old, but at least it was a twelve-year-old boy. That was progress, wasn't it?  
_

It was at Brendon's twenty-first, a few months later, that the horror struck. Jon had been blithely enjoying the party and shooting stealthy glances at Ryan, who – he couldn't quite believe it – looked _normal_. He was wearing black pants and a blue shirt and okay, so there was a vest and some bracelets, but it was Ryan so that was practically restrained. No one would have looked – okay, they might have looked twice, but no one would have looked _more_ than twice if they passed him on the street. And Brendon was in jeans and a Journey shirt, and Spencer didn't seem to be around yet but he was nothing to worry about, he was on Jon's side, and seriously, Jon was _victorious_.

"Hey," said Spencer behind him.

"Hey," said Jon. "Good party – _what_?"

Spencer grinned at him, all teeth. "Yup," he agreed. "Brendon's having fun."

"You – wha –" Jon spluttered. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Spencer looked down at himself. "Just normal clothes. Band t-shirts are all right, aren't they?" he said. "I definitely remember you saying band t-shirts were okay."

"Yes, but – _vest_ –"

"Ryan's wearing a vest," Spencer pointed out reasonably, "I don't think you're being fair," while Jon tried to think of a comeback that wasn't _yes but that's Ryan_.

"And – a headband –" he managed finally.

Spencer toasted him with his beer. "It keeps my hair out of my face. Useful, huh?"

"I like it," said Ryan, appearing out of nowhere, and Jon jumped. "Good pattern."

"Thanks," said Spencer, and smirked. Jon looked from one to the other. Ryan was absolutely straight-faced. Spencer's lips were twitching. "You _planned_ this!" he accused.

"You're pretty funny when you're plotting," said Spencer. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting you to enlist Keltie, that was a stroke of genius."

"It was a _symbol of our love_," muttered Ryan. He glared at Jon. "Only _one_ person gets to dress up my band, and that's _me_," he said.

"I –" said Jon, and then suddenly he was just really tired. He'd thought things were - he'd thought he was - oh, screw it all. Spencer's yellow t-shirt was making his eyes hurt a little bit. "You know what? Fuck you, Ryan," he said. "Sorry for interfering with _your band_. I won't do it again."

He drained his beer, set the empty plastic cup down on the table, and walked off, away from Ryan and his weird practically-normal outfit and Spencer and his fucking beard and his fucking _headband_. Behind him someone said, "No, wait, that wasn't what I –" but Jon kept going.

"_Wait_," said Ryan, hurrying up behind him and grabbing his wrist. "Jon, okay –" He stopped and looked around. Spencer was watching them. On the other side of the room, Brendon was singing a drunken karaoke version of _Papa Don't Preach_ while a crowd of people around him cheered him on. "Fuck. Okay, through here," said Ryan, and tugged Jon over to a door at the side of the room. Jon let himself be dragged, and Ryan kicked the door closed behind them, took a breath and looked Jon in the eyes.

"That – that wasn't what I meant," he said. "It wasn't, okay? It's _your_ band too, it's yours, it's mine, it's _all_ of ours, and it was just a stupid joke. All right?"

"I – all right," said Jon. Ryan's hand was still curled around his wrist, and he still had really long fingers, and Jon was reminded unaccountably of the day he'd joined the band officially and Ryan had put his hand on Jon's knee and gripped.

Ryan looked down at their hands too. "Um," he said. He let go of Jon's wrist and slid his fingers down until they were tangled with Jon's, and then they were practically – no, they _were_ holding hands, and when Jon looked up again Ryan was watching him nervously. When Jon didn't do anything, he stepped in, put his other hand on the side of Jon's face, and kissed him quickly.

His face was red when he stepped back again, but he didn't try to untangle their hands. "Um, my girlfriend says it's okay if I'm into dudes as well because she thinks that's hot," he said.

"Yeah?" said Jon, beginning to smile. "Cool. So does mine," and he leaned forward for the second kiss.  
_

"Okay, Spencer," said Ryan a couple of days later, "the joke's over, you can stop wearing headbands now."

"Yeah?" said Spencer. "But I like them. They keep my hair out of my face."

Ryan stared at him. Spencer stared placidly back.

"_He won't cut his beard and he won't change his hair_," hummed Brendon, and Jon joined in for the next line: "_It grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhere, his haaaair..."_

"Oh my god, shut up. We should never have kept that in the album," said Ryan. "Okay, you know what, you look like a tool, but you can wear whatever the fuck you want. Happy?"

"Happy," said Spencer. "And you know, that's just what I've been saying for _years_ now."

Ryan growled. Jon kicked his foot under the table and grinned at him when he looked up, and Ryan grinned sheepishly back.  
_

"So," said Brendon. "I bought some new jeans."

"Are they girl jeans?" said Jon.

"Yeah," said Brendon. "Sorry?"

"It's okay, we're all wearing what we want now," said Spencer. "The days of Ryan's tyrannical fashion dictatorship are over."

"That's good," said Brendon. "Because they're also capris."

**THE END**


End file.
